


Saturation

by hardeight



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Fluff, M/M, Shorts, shrug emoji @ myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardeight/pseuds/hardeight
Summary: A mix of short Gradence ficlets.(Will be set to completed as each is a stand-alone.)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> yea boi

“Hey,” Graves spoke softly, taking his eyes off his book to look at Credence through his reading glasses, who stood bowed over the edge of the couch on his left. Credence just smiled before nuzzling close to the side of his face to read over his shoulder. Graves chuckled lightly.   
  
“Don’t spoil anything,” Graves then joked and he could feel Credence’s warm lips by his ear, most likely still tugged into a smile.   
  
“I wouldn’t dare to,” the boy then whispered before placing kisses as soft as feathers behind his ear and on his neck that mingled with the velvety feel of his long hair. Graves shifted the book to his other hand, clearing his left hand to reach up and run it through the black locks. Credence sighed contently as he bowed down even more to allow easier access and turn his head to gaze at Graves like he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. It still left Graves breathless to know it was how he saw him.    
  
Then he lifted his head a little from the couch to place a kiss on Graves’ temple and even something that small made his heart positively flutter like he was 15 with his first boyfriend. His boy truly was incredible.   
  
Credence stood back up and stepped around the couch to join him. He looked so lovely and relaxed, his hair lightly tangled and wearing Graves’ grey shirt which was a little big on him, but it only added to the boy’s sleepy, comfortable look. He dropped down on the couch and curled up, snuggling up to Graves and placing his head in his lap and Graves instinctively and absentmindedly started to caress him, earning a gentle, peaceful smile before the boy drifted off, Graves’ hand only leaving his hair to draw a blanket around him.


	2. Two

Graves would nearly stumble over Credence at least five times on a daily basis. Credence always walked as close to Graves as physically possible and Graves didn’t really mind, except he was afraid he’d end up stepping on his foot or accidentally knocking their heads together. But honestly he was starting to get used to the presence beside him. It was comforting, even. To always be able to look to his side or turn around and find the boy standing there, a shy smile on his face.    
  
Credence would always mumble an ‘I’m sorry’ and Graves would silently run a hand across his cheek to reassure him that it was okay.   
  
It wasn’t because Credence couldn’t be alone, at least not anymore. In the beginning he’d struggled with having to be by himself a lot, but Graves had learned ways to help him cope and Credence had fought every day to eventually find peace in being alone too. After all, he was never lonely, and Graves had taught him how to apparate so that he could always visit Jacob’s bakery, the Goldstein’s apartment or Newt (wherever he was on a regular basis, Graves didn’t know, nor did he care). Credence still wasn’t too fond of walking outside alone, but Graves knew it wasn’t so much the being alone part as much as it was the memories haunting him.   
  
No, the thing was that Credence really just liked physical contact in every way it was given. He would still chase Graves’ touches and affections, just as starved for it as he’d been in the beginning. He’d always hug people a little longer than necessary. He’d always stand a bit too close to people he knew well. Graves just happened to be the one Credence was around the most and ergo, also the one who stumbled over him the most. It was bittersweetly endearing.   



	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern/college AU. Inspired by the idea of Queenie helping Credence out with makeup.

“Percy, scoot,” Queenie said and beckoned for him to move further in on the banquette. The music in the club was loud and he could only just make out what she’d said.   
  
“There’s space beside Jacob.” He shot up an eyebrow and nodded towards him, before he noticed that Credence came up behind her and he ended up moving immediately. He noticed how she smiled and made sure Credence sat down first. The chatter around the table continued and Graves tried,  _ really _ tried to not stare at the boy beside him, but he was gorgeous as always and looking so content, if not confident too.   
  
Graves was truly beyond gone.   
  
He’d never really crushed on anyone before, he’d always been the one others had hopeless crushes on. But now that he was on the other end of it, he started to feel guilty about just how badly he’d treated some people back in high school.    
  
The thing about Credence was that he was beautiful in every sense of the word. His long black hair always flowed effortlessly, he always wore odd ragged secondhand clothes but somehow still managed to look amazing in it, antique jewelry on his hands and around his neck making him look far more magical than any other wizard he’d ever met. And it was intimidating really, because Graves was used to knowing just how to seduce anyone.   
  
Hell, he’d even managed to make Jacob, who was straight as an arrow, blushed and hot under his words for a bet after he’d sworn that he was the only person Graves couldn’t seduce.    
  
But then the second year of college had come around and Credence had become a part of their friend group as well and Graves had been completely and utterly breathless the first time he’d seen him. Like a punch to the gut when he first heard him laugh and he’d found his heart quite literally racing just being near him. He’d never found the courage to flirt with him like he did with everyone else.   
  
Graves had kept his feelings to himself, but he knew Queenie had caught on. Of course she had. And so had Tina. But they respected him, always had, and knew to not say anything. They'd been like that since the first year of high school and Graves was beyond grateful. To Graves, the Goldstein sisters really had become sort of like his actual, older sisters, even though they were younger than him.    
  
Credence was wearing a black silky shirt that night, golden necklaces dangling by his exposed neck and rings to match with black stones on his hands, one of them Queenie’s. He remembered giving it to her as a gag valentine gift and she had worn it a lot until it had gone nearly bronze. To match his black shirt, he was wearing black jeans and combat boots with golden and very fragile, thin laces that clustered up where he’d tied them. He was beautiful.    
  
Graves had been so caught up in giving Credence a prolonged look-over that he almost hadn’t heard what Tina said.   
  
“That color is really gorgeous on you, Creed.”   
  
His eyes flicked from Credence’s boots to his face to find a smile on his face and then what Tina had commented on. Lipstick. Credence was wearing lipstick, red and bright and somehow Graves hadn’t noticed in the dim light. He had to will down an urge to whisper ‘holy fuck’ or something like it. Everyone around the table agreed with her, but Graves’ mouth had gone completely dry.   
  
“Thanks, guys. Queenie chose it,” Credence quietly mumbled as he blushed and Graves swore he’d never seen something so amazing his entire life.    
  
Graves swore to himself that he’d find the courage to kiss him the next time he wore lipstick again.   
  
  
  
  
  
No more than two days later, Credence was wearing lipstick once more, a deeper red this time and Queenie would pretend she hadn’t had anything to do with it. Graves knew better.   
  
He also knew better than to let himself down, so he followed through on his promise.   
  
The mix of mint and lipstick had never tasted that good.   



	4. Four

Graves wasn’t one to fall head first into anything. He had always taken a logical approach, seen the bigger picture before making a move no matter what it came to in his life. That was the way things were ought to be; thought out so that he always knew where to go next and it had always been like that, right up until Grindelwald had stolen his identity.  
  
He’d been held captive for weeks, had pieces of himself scraped off and been left broken, completely stripped of all he’d ever been. Grindelwald would humiliate him day after day, tell him about even subtle small things he was ruining in Graves’ life that meant it would never be the same when he came back, if he ever did come back. In the end, he barely had any energy left to even speak or fight and suddenly, Grindelwald had stopped coming back.   
  
It hadn’t taken more than a day before he found Tina and other members of MACUSA standing in front of his cell and he was right back at his original position as the strong auror he was ought to be, although he knew nobody looked at him the same again. He wasn’t as strong and unfazed as he’d been back then and he tried his best not to flinch at loud noises and magic too strong around him, but he failed again and again. Failed when he was awake and failed when he was asleep. The sinister brokenness loomed right underneath the surface, he knew. His shaking hands gave it all away and it made him hate Grindelwald and himself even more. And everyone else around him, because all they saw was a victim and Graves was not a god damn victim.   
  
About two months later, Graves had gotten better at hiding away the pain he felt. It’d been easier to control his magic again, his hands and words flowing easily and he been gaining control again. His dreams weren’t as dark as they had been and his guilt had eased, even if just a little. But he’d become more distant than he had ever been in the past, if that was even possible and the times when he’d been drowning a little too much scotch, the guilt would come rushing over him like a tidal wave or like a black cloud engulfing all of him like a roaring thunderstorm.   
  
One particularly bad day, Tina had nearly quite literally broken down the door to his office and she looked bewildered and almost scared. He hadn't been in the mood to deal with something of this caliber. He knew Tina, he knew that look. It always meant trouble.    
  
“Mr. Graves, please come with me. Right now.” She sounded urgent and desperate and at first, he just raised his half-finished glass of scotch to tell her he didn’t care before she stepped further into his office and slammed the door behind her more violently than necessary.   
  
“It’s about Credence,” she nearly hissed and his eyes widened at the words. Credence. The boy he hadn’t been able to bring himself to think about, yet he’d dreamt about him almost every night. When he had first seen him on the street, something had drawn him to him and his initial instinct had been to protect him. He’d bought him a pair of leather gloves to keep warm, healed some of his wounds and given him some type of comfort in a harsh world that clearly didn’t care for someone like Credence. What he hadn’t known was that the boy was carrying a burden as deep as he did, and he distinctly remembers tasting blood from biting his cheek when Grindelwald had chuckled in the most disgusting way right after he’d said, “You know I should really thank you for getting all cozy with him. Makes it a lot easier for me to make him find the child. He’s a little young for us though, don’t you think?”   
  
Graves had spat blood right at the man’s shoe and growled that if he’d as much as touch him, he’d be sorry for the rest of his life.   
  
Graves followed Tina along without any other protest.


	5. Five

“And so it turns out that she was actually not red at all, but green, because she had just been eating some sort of berry that I can’t even pronounce the name of, and...” Credence enthusiastically went on about his day as Graves silently admired him with a gentle smile.   
  
He always loved when he rambled and talked about his day or a book he’d been reading or anything, really. His eyes would light up and his hands would be all over the place, trying to further articulate. It was heartwarming to see him so open and free, everything spilling out so fast that Graves was nearly afraid of missing out on the details.   
  
Suddenly he stopped talking, his eyes wide open and scared look on his face before he bowed his head. “I’m talking too much, I’ll be quiet, I’m sorry.”   
  
Graves heart dropped to his stomach as he registered what he was saying. His boy was still vulnerable, he knew. There was still scars on him that couldn’t be seen, self-loathing thoughts Graves couldn’t hear. He knew it would still take years for those scars to fade too, if they ever would, but he was determined to soothe every single one of them. “God, no, baby. Please go on. There’s nothing better in this world than to listen to you.”    
  
Credence looked up, his eyes glazed over but he had a faint smile on his lips. Graves caressed his cheek and pulled him in closer, kissing his forehead softly. He felt Credence’s warm hand finding his own before he crawled into his lap. He settled in, Graves’ hand on the back of his neck and then he quietly went on, nuzzling into his neck as he told him about the rest of his rather odd but intriguing day with Newt.   



	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Credence is a singer and Graves is his vocal coach.

The studio was bright and the sun shone in on Credence, whose voice filled the room as Mr. Graves played along on the piano.   
  
“Ah,” Mr. Graves interjected, “one more time.”    
  
Credence cleared his throat and took a deep breath before repeating the last few lines of the chorus of the song they were practicing. He knew he wasn't giving it his all.    
  
“No,” Mr. Graves said and got up to walk over to him, “you’re in your head too much, Credence. Close your eyes.”   
  
He did as he was told, but became acutely aware of how close his coach was.    
  
“Good. It’s just you and me. No one else here. No one to impress.”   
  
He almost laughed at that because his main goal was to impress the man in front of him. At least that what it had come down to. Sure, he wanted the praise from his audience, from reviewers, from the press. But since Mr. Graves had been hired as his personal coach when he was 15, he’d never had anyone he’d wanted to impress more. He had kissed him on the day he turned 18, but Mr. Graves hadn’t kissed him back. He’d told him that he was confusing a father figure for a lover. They had never talked about it since.   
  
He was 21 now, at the height of his singing career and the world loved him. People were swarming around him, everyone’s eyes always on him. His friends had tried to set him up with potential partners but it never went further than a second date. Credence didn’t want it to, either. He still didn’t have eyes for anyone else than his coach.    
  
“Feel the sun on your skin, you feel that? That warmth.”   
  
He felt the warmth, not just on his skin but in his stomach too, the heat mingling with the endless cold that had settled in his bones.   
  
“Yeah, like the world’s shining its big spotlight down on you. You are the very center of the universe, Credence.”   
  
He tried not to shiver, he really tried.   
  
“It’s just you and me and the universe. The universe is clearly impressed and you never have to worry about me - so it’s only you that you have to convince.”   
  
He tried not to get flustered, tried to contain himself, tried to bow his head, but Mr. Graves wouldn’t let him. He lifted his chin gently and then put a single hand on his stomach and Credence inhaled sharply.   
  
“It’s right in here, Credence. All of what you need. It’s all inside you.”   
  
And then he sang the song again, from the top, with no piano. Mr. Graves right beside him, though he couldn’t see him.    
  
At the end, he opened his eyes to find Mr. Graves with a tear rolling down his cheek and the most beautiful, content smile on his face. He looked so overwhelmed and so infinitely proud and Credence wanted to save it inside his heart as far in as possible to drown out the sadness.   
  
  
  
If he could have just this, he’d be okay. If he could have just this, he’d be content. It would be enough.    
  
  
  
And then Mr. Graves kissed him.   



	7. Seven

“I’ll take you everywhere.”  
  
“Everywhere?”   
  
“Everywhere, baby.” Graves tugged Credence’s hair behind his ear.   
  
“I’d like that.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
He nodded and grinned before taking out his hair tie out to let his hair fall down his back and onto his pillow. “Can it wait until tomorrow though? I think I’d fall asleep if we went anywhere right now.” He put the tie around Graves' wrist.   
  
“Of course, baby.” Graves drew him close to his bare chest and kissed his forehead.   
  
They both breathed quietly.   
  
“I love you.”   
  
“I love you too, my boy.”


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire AU. 
> 
> (guess who rewatched fright night for the third time... help)

Credence raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were a vegetarian or a non-human-blood drinker or whatever.”  
  
Graves chuckled at the names and poured the bag of blood into a glass, lavishing in the smell of proper, human blood.  “I raid blood banks occasionally to stay sane.”  
  
“Weirdo,” Credence joked and Graves loved how comfortable he’d gotten around him, looking up at the boy shortly to enjoy the smile on his face before sitting down on the couch to resume reading.  
  
“Isn’t sunlight supposed to burn you?” Credence asked after having stared at Graves, sitting by the window in clear daylight, for several minutes.  
  
“Urban myth. It only burns a little. I barely feel it anymore,” he answered and only looked up at the boy for a few seconds before placing his eyes back on his book. He could tell that he stared for another minute or two before getting disinterested and pacing around, looking at Graves’ collection of books and vinyls and other things collected over the course of the past hundred years.  
  
  
  
When Graves had first met Credence, it had been in church. He’d been sitting a few benches from him and his mother and he wouldn’t have noticed him, timid and hunched in on himself, had it not been because of the strong, sweet scent of blood coming from him. Their eyes had met just once and Graves had made sure to send him the filthiest smile possible. He'd always been taught to not play with his prey, but... it wasn't exactly prey, so he'd excused himself.  
  
  
Then a few days later he’d seen the boy again, pamphlets about banishing witchcraft and unearthly beings in his gloved hands and Graves had ‘accidentally’ bumped into him and smelled the delicious, intoxicating scent of leather and sweet blood mixed before realizing that it must’ve meant he had open wounds on his hands, which was most likely not of his own doing. The boy had stared at him in shock with brown eyes to drown in, his pink lips slightly parted and he’d stuttered an apology before moving on, nearly tripping over his own feet trying to get away from him.   
  
  
The third time he’d seen him, he’d found the boy wandering around outside at midnight, the smell of him distinct even miles away. Graves had fought to not let his eyes turn black and not lose control, though it had become harder with each step he’d taken. The minute the boy had noticed him, he’d stumbled into an alleyway to seemingly hide.  
  
“It’s not very safe to walk around at this time of night on your own, you know,” Graves had said and found the boy hiding behind a big container.   
  
“Please, d-don’t hurt me,” the boy had whimpered, completely curled in on himself and Graves had bowed down to run a hand over his cheek, making him pull away even more and whine. Graves had known his eyes were black at that point.  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you. If I was going to, I already would have. I’m Percival. You can call me Percy, if that’s better.”   
  
It hadn’t really reassured the boy, the smell of fear still surrounding him on top of the very strong smell of the sweetness of his blood. “What-what do you want?”   
  
“Nothing. To treat your wounds, maybe.”  
  
It had made the boy’s eyes shoot up in wonder and fright. “How do you know that?”  
  
“Keen sense of smell.”  
  
  
The fourth time, the boy had sought him out himself. Somehow he’d found his address and invited himself inside, because Graves had caught him snooping around in his kitchen.   
  
“Finding anything interesting?” Graves had asked, leaning against a doorframe right in front of the boy.  
  
The boy had whined and stumbled backwards clumsily against the counters before trying to run out, but Graves had grabbed him by the arm before he’d gone any further than the entrance, getting him dizzy having the boy so close, still a distinct sweet smell surrounding him, making Graves growl lowly.  
  
“I-I-I’m sorry,” he had whimpered and bowed his head, as if Graves was going to hit him or do worse, “I-I was c-curious, I’m-I’m sorry.” Tears had clearly been welling up in the boy’s eyes.  
  
“Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay,” Graves had said softly, had felt protective all of a sudden, loosening his grip and running a hand over the boy’s warm cheek, “I would be too.”  
  
  
After that, the boy had been showing up at his front door an awful lot.  
  
  
  
  
“Have people tried to kill you before?” Credence asked after running his hands over a particular section of books about crime and forensics.   
  
“Several times, yeah. Mostly not because of the vampire part though,” he answered, not looking up from his book, though acutely aware of every move Credence made. The boy continued looking at his collection, picking out a few books that he flipped through before putting them back.  
  
“Are you going to bite me?”  
  
That question took Graves completely by surprise. “What?”  
  
“I mean why else would you keep me around?” His head was still buried in some old book Graves hadn’t touched for years.   
  
“You don’t believe I just like to have you around for company? Besides, you’re the one who keeps showing up here. I don’t make you do that.”  
  
Credence smiled, Graves could tell. “True,” the boy mumbled, probably mostly to himself.  
  
Graves took a drink from his glass and reread the passage he’d been trying to read the past few minutes.  
  
“Does deer blood and human blood taste different?”  
  
Graves sighed defeatedly before placing his bookmark back in the book and putting it down on the table, leaning back against the couch. Anyone else asking questions like that would have annoyed the everlasting shit out of him, but he enjoyed that the boy was curious. People were rarely curious about anything he did, and since he’d stopped drinking human blood, he’d rarely even had any human contact at all.   
  
“Very different. Deer’s blood is like the most watered out soup you can imagine, no flavor, no surprise, no difference. Every human’s blood is different, some sweet, some savory, some bitter. Depends on mood, what they’ve been eating, a lot of different things, really.”  
  
“Hmm,” Credence mumbled, putting the book in his hand back in its place before moving over to sit on the other couch in the room placed beside the one Graves was sitting in. “Do people - uh, vampires - have a preference?” Credence was looking at him with interest as if they were just talking about homework, no scent of fear at all. Only affection and something distinctly Credence.  
  
“Of course, just like everyone else.”  
  
“What do you like the most?” It was intriguing how the boy was nearly trying to tempt him with his words, making Graves’ self control dangle in a very thin thread with questions like that. He could tell, because the boy’s pulse would rise and the faintest smirk would be on his lips.  
  
“When it’s sweet,” he said and drowned the last bit of blood in his glass.   
  
“Hmm,” he mumbled mostly to himself again, disappearing to some place inside his own head and going silent. Credence did that a lot, and Graves didn’t really mind.   
  
Graves got up to go wash the glass and find something for the boy to eat, except he really didn’t have all that much. He searched through his cabinets to find some expired crackers, an unopened jar of peanut butter and an empty cereal box. “Great,” he grumbled and made a mental note to buy something better for next time.  
  
He heard Credence’s faint footsteps behind him. “It’s alright, I’m not that hungry.” Graves knew it was a lie, because his stomach had been growling for the past two hours. He turned around and leaned against the counter and found that Credence was suddenly very close to him. “I gotta get home anyway,” he said, his voice a bit strained like it always was when he had to go. It was as if he unconsciously stepped into Graves’ personal space. His eyes looked timid and shy, yet there was something about his pulse racing that seemed off. He glanced at Graves’ lips as he moved even closer to him and Graves felt breathless and unprepared for the sudden change in his behavior. Of course, he’d thought about kissing him a lot - a whole lot, really - but he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of him, knew he lacked confidence, experience, time. And it was at a point now where it was all or nothing. If he kissed him now, Graves knew he couldn’t fight off wanting to bite him too.  
  
“Are you going to let me taste it next time?” Credence whispered, his voice low and sultry yet innocent. He could nearly feel the words spoken on his own lips.  
  
“What?” Graves’ voice cracked, which was beyond odd. He wasn’t ever in a position where he felt intimidated, especially not without knowing why.  
  
“The blood?” There was the same edge of temptation in his words as there had been earlier, dripping like honey and everything Graves had denied himself for centuries. Graves had been fearing he was the one to corrupt Credence, but now he was starting to think it was the other way around.  
  
“I- uh, yeah, but it’s going to taste like shit to you,” Graves managed to say without another crack.   
  
Credence laughed lightly, stepping backwards and his head bowed to stare at the floorboards on his right, as if he lost his courage and Graves found himself both relieved and disappointed.   
  
“I should go,” he stated and only glanced up at Graves once before heading out the door, leaving him standing there, wondering what the hell just happened.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >looks up "vegetarian vampire"  
> >only gets results about twilight
> 
> why this. why must 2008 haunt me this way.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One-night stand modern AU thing. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Credence would sneak out to clubs late at night every once in a while. He didn’t mind people groping him or dancing very close to him. It was a brief feeling of being appreciated and he could almost imagine that it was affectionate touches that meant something, if only for that night. He’d been kissed a couple of times, some by random, drunk people and others by some who’d been dancing or flirting with him for hours. He hadn’t wanted to do more with anyone though. His heart had fluttered and his heart had beaten quicker, but he’d mostly forgotten their faces by the time he woke up next morning and he had not wanted to meet any of them again.  
  
Something changed that night though. He was wearing an outfit that his mom would kill him for (she’d kill him if she even knew he was out, let alone at a gay bar) and he felt good, really good. The music was great, loud enough to drown out everything else and he could hide in the crowd, surrounded by sweat and air that was too thin.  
  
Then all of a sudden, the just about hottest guy he had ever seen had been dancing close to him. His eyes were brown, nearly golden in the bright lights, there was the most smug smirk on his face and his black t-shirt was tight and fitted. He looked amazing and the way he looked at him was amazing. Everything about him was intoxicating and inviting and he swore it was like dancing with the devil.  
  
And then his lips were on the stranger’s lips, urgent and needy and the stranger had groaned into his mouth and had his strong hands on Credence’s hips. And then he’d taken him home and had hips lips everywhere else on his body. Every touch and smear had set his skin on fire and he loved every moan he could pull from the stranger’s mouth. The stranger’s hands had held him down by his neck, his hips, his wrists, leaving bruises and marks with roughness and teeth on his skin. He’d felt nothing like it before, not even imagined anything could make him feel like he was floating that way. The stranger had kissed him and kissed him and he’d drowned in each one until they were all flowing together and he was a writhing, needy mess. Once they’d both gotten off, he still couldn’t stop kissing the man, didn’t want to stop feeling the warm skin under his hands and the man’s arms around him and in his hair. He didn’t want this feeling to leave him.  
  
“You haven’t done this before, have you?” The man suddenly whispered, breaking the small illusion he had created for himself. He shook his head and felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment, his stomach getting heavy.  
  
“I figured,” he said and drew him closer, placing soft kisses on his forehead that made his entire body flutter. He feared that maybe he’d been horrible in bed and let the stranger down and that’s how he could tell. “You’re a lot more… touchy than people normally are,” he continued.  
  
His hands on the stranger’s back stilled, he hadn’t even realized he’d been caressing him and that every part of his body was touching his, their legs tangled. He felt warm, less numb, comfortable. It felt right. And then the stranger was kissing him again, softly this time and unfurled the clutter of anxiety in his stomach, made it melt into a puddle instead. His hand came up to caress the back of his neck and he already wanted more again, he didn’t even know what he wanted to be exact. He just wanted to know every part of the stranger beside him. Wanted to know what made him cry, hurt. Wanted to know what made him laugh and what inspired him and what turned him on. Wanted to know his favorite songs and books and melt with him under the sunlight. He didn’t even know the man’s name. He knew it was stupid, he knew. But he could pretend just for now, as if it had been like this for years. He could let himself be engulfed in the man’s warmth and drift off to sleep safe and satisfied.  
  
  
When he woke up the next morning, he was still wrapped up in the stranger’s arms, his back pressed against the man’s chest. He felt disoriented at first, having honestly believed it was all a fevery, wet dream, until the smell of clean sheets and aftershave had filled his senses. He felt a weak kiss pressed to the back of his neck and a gruff, unintelligible sound from behind him. “You know it’s-” the man’s voice started coarsely and he coughed to clear his throat, “sorry, let me try that again. It’s one-night stand policy to leave before the other person wakes up.”  
  
He could feel the words spoken, the man’s voice low and rough. He knew it’d been a one-night stand the moment he consented to it, but hearing it still felt like a punch to the gut. The man wriggled a little, his nose pressing up against his skin before he took a deep, relaxed breath and pulled him closer, although they were pretty much as close as they could get. He didn’t know whether to stay or run. So he decided to run.  
  
He attempted to move away from him carefully as if he was still asleep, but he could feel the weight of the man’s arm getting heavier the more he tried to get away. “Mmmm,” he mumbled sleepily. “Stay.”  
  
He figured he didn’t really have a choice and turned around instead to face the man, whose eyes were still closed but he had a faint smile on his lips. He inhaled again, sniffling a bit before moving his head close to Credence’s forehead to give him a soft, lasting kiss there. “Better,” he mumbled like he was already dozing off again, but he could feel his hand in his hair, twirling strands of it between his fingers.  
  
He wanted all of this to be special, to not just be a night, to not be another person down the row. He knew the man was far above his league, so really he didn’t know why he was trying to kid himself or why the man had even been with him in the first place. He didn’t really know anything and he mostly just wanted to be in his own bed where he could cry in peace and forget any of this happened.  
  
He felt the man’s hand trace down his back, down across his scars but he didn’t seem fazed by it. The man cleared his throat again before moving back a bit, presenting the side of his arm that had a long scar from the edge of his collarbone and down his entire bicep. “I was 31, stupid, drunk. Got in a fight and the guy had a knife. I got lucky that it didn’t go an inch further in.” Credence dared to reach his hand out and lightly trace the scar with his fingertips.  
  
“Mine are from a belt buckle,” he stated in return and he could feel the man’s hand still for a little before caressing him again.  
  
They both went silent and he spent far too much time trying to commit every part of the stranger’s face to memory.  
  
“You wanna go get lunch somewhere?” The man asked and rolled over on his back to stretch. He tried not to stare at the bare skin now far more visible in the daylight as his heart skipped a beat at the question.  
  
“I thought it was a one-night thing.”  
  
The man yawned, opened his eyes and smiled at him lazily. “Well, so did I, but I guess plans change,” he moved closer to him again to kiss him softly before continuing. “So, yes or no?”  
  
He wanted to say no, his head reminding him that this wouldn’t last, that it was bound to go wrong. “Yes.”


	10. Ten

Graves stepped closer and watched him intensely. Credence didn’t take his eyes off of him and wasn’t going any further back. “Sorry about that,” Graves spoke in a rough, hot tone. He leaned in, his lips almost against his ear. He could hear Credence’s heartbeat, the whimper he tried to hold in. It was like music.  
  
“Please,” Credence whined so quietly that he could barely hear it.   
  
Graves moved his head back to find Credence’s pupils blown wide and blood decorating the right side of his dry lip, as if he’d been biting it. “Please what, Credence?”   
  
“Please,” he whispered again, this time a tad louder. He knew what he was asking for and it was a dangerous thing to want, but Credence didn’t seem fazed by any of it, only continuously intrigued to get closer to the flame. Credence continued to bite his lip, making it more hell to watch him. Graves breathed in deep and clenched his fist.   
  
“I promise I’ll be good.” He looked so vulnerable but his eyes spoke louder, clear and decisive, confident and willing.   
  
Graves groaned, edging to something like a growl. “No.”   
  
Credence moved closer and began to place soft kisses by the space between his neck and collarbone. He shuddered and grabbed the boy’s shoulder, meaning to push him away but it ended up as nothing but a weak grip.   
  
“Credence,” he tried to warn him, but he wasn’t listening. “Fuck, Credence.”


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty angsty, sorry about that. Needed to clear my head.
> 
> Written with inspiration from Draw Your Swords by Angus & Julia Stone.

He knows he shouldn’t feel this way.  
  
Knows he should be happy that Credence is laughing and having fun. Knows that his happiness goes hand in hand with his own.   
  
But tonight he can’t.  
  
His chest feels bleak and numb as he watches Newt make him laugh, standing so close to him that they could practically be sharing the same breath.  
  
He knows he can’t live up to that. He knows he doesn’t have that same type of kindness, charm, lightness. He’s muddy waters in comparison. He feels like a fool. Credence hasn’t sought him out for what feels like hours now, far too busy talking to more interesting people. New faces that greet him with love that doesn’t remind him of bad times. He knows he’s given him all he has, but it would never have been enough. He's old news.   
  
_God, such a fucking fool._  
  
Credence is his only one, he knows. But he’s just the beginning to Credence, always has been. He knew it was temporary. He knows that should be alright. He knows he can’t hold anyone down - knows he shouldn’t. Birds aren’t meant to be caged.  
  
But the feeling of worthlessness settles in his bones, like a dark desperate thud in his chest that begs for something, anything.   
  
He feels tied to his chair, locked down by the gravity of earth and by the heavy weight of his own chest. He feels like yelling, but his throat is too tight, constricted, like ropes pressing more harshly against his neck with every passing moment. He closes his eyes and feels the muscles in his forehead ache and strain.  
  
_Pull yourself together,_ he tells himself.  
  
_God fucking damn it, pull yourself together._ __  
__  
Everything sinks and sinks until he can’t even feel his own hands. His breath is too thick and he finds no relief in deep breaths. He feels his body choking him and finds himself fine with the thought.   
  
_He’s not yours to keep._  
  
He almost wants to cry, to release the tension behind his eyelids, but he knows he can’t.  
  
He can’t open his eyes, either. He can’t watch it happen. He can’t watch himself shatter.   
  
He feels a hand on his cheek and opens his eyes, his heart bursting. He can’t do this.  
  
Credence’s expression above him is unreadable. His eyes look dark - hungry, almost, not a single trace of a smile on his lips. “Let’s go home,” the boy whispers and Percival feels like he’s collapsing in on himself, like a black hole ready to suck anything too close to him in.   
  
Credence doesn’t hesitate with apparating the both of them home, as if he knows he doesn’t have the energy to do it.  
  
“Credence,” he hears himself whisper before he feels the boy's lips softly pressed against his own, taking his time between each gentle kiss, as if he’s savoring every small atom that makes Percival who he is. He feels the boy’s fingertips tracing his palms, drawing warmth and sense back into them and his hands move to his chest, unfurling the lump in his throat and he feels wet drops trace down his cheeks.  
  
_Let it go,_ he tells himself.  
  
_Just let it fucking go._  
  
He finds himself backing Credence up against their wardrobe, possessively claiming his mouth and the boy limply complies, a soft whimper escaping him.  
  
“All yours,” Credence whispers breathlessly and he doesn’t understand how he knows.   
  
“All yours, only yours,” the boy repeats and Percival doesn't waste another second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> & what credence didn't get to tell percy was that he was actually just going around trying to gather stories abt percy's most embarrassing moments but hey ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
